You wonder why I hate you
by Harbucks
Summary: *NEW NEW TITLE* "He can be killing a man with a tooth brush one minute and trying to get Micheal to brush his teeth the next." Christophe Ze Mole /Gregory, OC Children, Greg's POV. Random events that happen in their lives, NOT in order
1. Everyday Hero

_**SOUTH PARK IS NOT MINE IT'S MATT STONE AND TREY PARKER'S**_

Random Idea. NO FLAMES PLZ!

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Their are many things that Christophe can do, somethings he's quite proud of. It never really ceases to amaze me how he could do such horrific things, like rip out a man's eyeballs and shove them down his throat and not feel guilty about it. I envy that. I never personally killed anyone in my life...and yet I still have nightmares.

He doesn't gloat about what he does, not anymore anyway. When he was younger he used to wipe his bloodied hands on my nice clean jeans with a smug smirk on his face just to show off his victory of another kill.

It doesn't matter if he had a long or short day, everyday is rough for him. Every moment he comes home he's always complaning about _something. _Whether it be a kill didn't go smooth enough, he lost a document or Burger King wasn't open, and I sit and listen to his complaining, usually at 2 o'clock in the morning when he comes home.

It sometimes scares me how he looks so...uncaring when he kills, like that person didn't have a soul and didn't feel pain, he just kills them and goes on with his day. It is rather my fault that he does this. I'm the one who sends him on his missions after all, somedays I just feel like firing him so then I don't have to worry so much about whether he'll come home alive or not. But then he might find some other way to achieve his adrenaline rush.

He's always seems so proud with himself, on the job he's 'Mole, the mercenary.' but when he's home, he's 'Christophe, father of three and husband.' He always wears both title's proudly. He can be killing a man with a tooth brush one minute and trying to get Micheal to brush his teeth the next.

Thats what amazes me about him, how could he be so ruthless and brutal to his enemies and yet so kind and gentle to the kids? He's never stern with them, unless need be, he always kisses them on their, already dreaming, heads before trudging off to bed and he never once stuck them, or me for that matter.

But sometimes he doesn't realise how much he hurts the kids when he's away. Just a few weeks ago our oldest, Alexandre, who just turned eight, came up to me and asked:

_"Mum? Is Papa going to be home in time for my birthday?" _

_"Of course!" I replied, "He would never miss your birthday."_

He did. The entire party only consisted of myself, Alex, his friend Devin, Violet our only daughter and Micheal the youngest. It broke his heart when his father wasn't there to see him blow out his candles. He didn't say anything about it and he pretended to be happy but you could see it in his eyes.

I heard him cry himself to sleep.

I screamed at Chris that night when he got home, told him he was a deadbeat dad and a horrible person.

_"Fuck sakes Gregoree! Eet was a mistake!! I'm sorree!!" he replied_

_"Don't apologize to me!! Apologize to our son who only wanted his dad to be their for his birthday!"_

I adventually kicked him out of our room when I got too emotional. When I woke up the next morning I saw him fast asleep in Alex's room with Violet curled in his lap, Micheal in his arms and Alex sleeping soundly by his feet.

I don't think he realises that no matter what he does he's still a father and sometimes he needs to stop playing mercenary and be a father once in a while to his children.

I hate him for hurting my kids, I hate him for coming home so late, I hate him for leaving blood trails on the floor.

But I also love him...He is a good father when he's around...A memory as clear as day is still fresh in my mind of him singing to baby Alex when he had colic.

Alex crying in the night as Chris gently rocked him back and forth, letting soft french words, like velvit, pour into the night air and surround the baby's head with comforting words of slumber.

_"__Dodo, l'enfant do,  
L'enfant dormira bien vite  
Dodo, l'enfant do  
L'enfant dormira bientôt._

_Une poule blanche  
Est là dans la grange.  
Qui va faire un petit coco*  
Pour l'enfant qui va fair' dodo._

_Dodo, l'enfant do,  
L'enfant dormira bien vite  
Dodo, l'enfant do  
L'enfant dormira bientôt._

_Tout le monde est sage  
Dans le voisinage  
Il est l'heure d'aller dormir  
Le sommeil va bientôt venir._

I never seen a child sleep more soundly then Alex when Chris would sing that song to him, It was quite beautiful actually.

He was kind of...like a hero. He could kill anyone who got in his way yet protect the ones he loved most. He never really wanted to be called a hero though. He hated the very thought of it, but in my mind he _was _a hero. He was a hero to my children, to our famly, our nation, to me...He was _our _hero.

And now...I'm laying in bed. Waiting for the _hero _to come home at 2 o'clock in the morning, waiting for him to kiss our kids goodnight, waiting for him to complain about his day and still waiting for him to realise, he was our everyday hero each day.


	2. Army

These are going to be just random events that happen in Gregory's and Mole's lives. Not in any particular order either. Might all be in Greg's POV. Sometimes Mole's if I'm feeling lazy.

_Oh bordom! Why do you pain me so?! Ahahah! This just kinda...popped into my head. I don't have anything against the army BTW. Enjoy yet another one of my shitbabies._

_SOUTH PARK (C) MATT STONE AND TREY PARKER_

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When Chris and I were in one of our little fights, which was most of the time, we never would fight in front of the children. No matter how tough the situation was, no matter how incredibly pissed off we were at each other, we _never_ would let it out in front of the kids. Thats why it came to such a shock to the children when we announced that we would be devorced in June.

We had our rough patches and our stupid fights, those are not what lead us to this decision. It was the fact that we knew we didn't love each other anymore, we also knew what a devorce could do to a child, thats why we decided to wait until our youngest, Micheal, turned sixteen, when that day came and went we brought out the documents and signed them, it was official.

As sort of a last good bye we stared at each other for a moment, thats when I noticed his eyes were brown. 25 years of marriage and I didn't know his eyes were brown, they were a very beautiful brown, with a light swirl of silver around them, I hadn't noticed how much I loved his eyes, they had a glimpse of sadness deep in the iris, I tried not to let it affect me that much but I guess it didn't work since Chris reached over to brush a tear from my cheek.

I don't exactly know when he started to kiss me until it happened, It felt very familiar and almost comfortable but highly innappropriate for the situation at hand. So I slapped him. Right across the face. Hard. Worked too.

He packed up his things and left our house that night, taking our home with him. I just sat on the corner of what was once 'our' bed, playing with the corner of the sheets. For months we didn't speak to each other, we didn't work with each other anymore, we were two differently people, completely drifted apart with no means of contacting each other. That is until I got the phone call that took the breath out of my lungs and stopped my heart completely.

_"I'm joining zhe armee."_

Was he a fucking idiot?! For about five hours I tried convincing him to get out of it, he was the father of my kids damnit! I didn't need their father completely out of their lives. After the sixth hour he didn't budge, so I resorted to screaming and yelling and half sobbing telling him how stupid he was and that he could get himself killed.

_"I don't care." _was his response to my plea.

A rage built up inside me and I screamed at the top of my lungs into the phone, _"FINE! I HOPE YOU DROP DEAD!" _

That was the last time I ever spoke to him.

Now I'm standing here with my children, biting my lip hard to keep the tears from streaming down my face as I stare at the lifeless face of my ex in his coffin. It was a traditional army funeral, with the folded France flag which they presented to me. I wish he would have died from a bullet to the head, or a missle or some kind of ambush to give him some dignity...but no...

He died of heart problems.

He deserved more then that...a whole lot more...I wanted to touch his arm to wake him up like I used to do. In my mind I knew we would never get remarried but in my heart I always had that hope. That one little twinge of spirit that kept edging me on through the day, _'Maybe he'll take you back' _.

"Mom? Are you ok?" Violet put her hand on my shoulder, I just smiled at her and nodded like I always do when something upset me. I look at my now 27 year old son Alex, Violet who was 25 and 17 year old Micheal, all of them had a little bit of their father in them. Even as they lower the coffin I smile, a genuine smile, because I now know what it means to have something 'live on'.

He'll forever be in my heart, even if I hated his guts...I always loved him. I don't know why I ever let him go...


End file.
